Replication: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #6)

by Kevin Hardman

  It turned out that my grandmother was incredibly competitive when it came to games like this and tended to adopt a win-at-all-cost mentality. Thus, with respect to the particular game in question, she would breach peace treaties, betray allies, and more if she thought it would give her an advantage. And heaven forbid that she should ever be losing! At that point, all bets were off, as she would adopt a scorched Earth policy: burning crops and fields, raiding villages, poisoning wells…

  “If I can’t win, no one will,” was her philosophy.

  It was an entirely different side of my grandmother – one that I hadn’t even known existed – but to be honest, having a villain in the game (for lack of a better term) tended to make things more exciting. Tonight was no exception as Indigo quickly launched a victory-or-death style of play that kept us all on our toes. On this particular occasion, however, an alliance with me led to my mother winning the game not just once, but twice. Flush with victory after her two consecutive wins, Mom let out an excited whoop and began high-fiving everyone. She then turned to Indigo (who always sat next to her at the gaming table where we played) and blew a raspberry at her.

  “That’s it,” Indigo declared, feigning disgust as she smacked her hand on the table. “We’re playing again.”

  “No, we’re not,” Gramps said with conviction as he came to his feet. “You’ll play all night if we let you, Indigo, but I’m an old man and I need my beauty sleep.”

  “You’re not that old,” my grandmother replied with a mischievous look in her eye.

  “Oh, jeez,” I muttered as I detected a noticeable uptick in the mental chatter between my grandparents. “Please leave – both of you. We’ll put the game away. Just…go.”

  Laughing, my grandparents bid us goodnight and left.

  Myshtal turned to my mother. “If you wish to leave as well, please do. I’ll help Jim put everything away.”

  My mother didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she gave me an inquisitive look.

  “It’s fine,” I assured her. “Plus, you have a deadline to meet.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” Mom said.

  My statement was a reference to the fact that my mother was a midlist author of superhero romance novels. She had a deadline that was approaching, and with everything going on lately – from my grandmother’s return to the upcoming gala – it would be a minor miracle if she wasn’t behind.

  “Frankly speaking, I can use all the time I can get,” Mom continued. “So, if you’re sure…”

  She trailed off, giving me one last chance to change my mind.

  “It’s no big deal, Mom,” I stressed. “It’s just game pieces and a game board, not rocket science. But if it makes you feel better…”

  Rather than finish my statement, I let my actions speak for me. Shifting into super speed, I put away all the pieces of the game and then placed it back in the cabinet where it was normally kept before dashing back to my place at the table – all in less than a second. Thankfully, the room wasn’t exceptionally large, so there was barely any wind following in the wake of my burst of speed.

  “Well, that works for me,” Mom said. She turned and headed for the door, shouting over her shoulder, “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  That left me and Myshtal alone in the parlor, something that managed to fill me with both delight and dread. On the one hand, I found her fascinating; she was bright, had a ready wit, and we never seemed to lack for things to talk about. Plainly speaking, we had developed a strong bond almost from the moment we met.

  That said, I was admittedly wild about my girlfriend Electra, and I worried immensely over how a growing friendship with Myshtal might affect our relationship. (It certainly didn’t help that, technically, Myshtal and I were affianced.)

  “Are you going to bed as well?” Myshtal asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “No,” I replied, glancing at my watch. “Contrary to what my grandfather said, it’s not that late, and I don’t feel particularly tired.”

  All of that was true, but what I failed to mention was that I was actually feeling restless. Dinner and time with my family had been a welcome distraction, but now my thoughts were turning back to my earlier performance during the mission. Even if I had been ready to turn in, it would be a night of fitful sleep with those images in my head. (I also hadn’t talked to Electra yet, which was one of the last things I did every night, but I tried to avoid bringing up my girlfriend in Myshtal’s presence – and vice versa).

  “I think I may just watch a movie or something,” I added.

  “Would you mind if I joined you?”

  “Not at all,” I said, practically beaming – and then immediately feeling guilty about it.

  Chapter 9

  We ended up in the theater room – a windowless, soundproof chamber on the second floor. Rectangular in shape, the room had originally consisted of three identical, outdated couches lined up one behind the other and all facing a projector screen that covered an entire wall. The second and third couch had sat on risers, thereby allowing anyone sitting on either row to see over the heads of those in front of them. The walls had been covered with posters from classic films and autographed pictures of iconic movie stars from years past. Finally, a reel-to-reel projector had been used to show films on the screen.

  Fast-forward to the present, and the couches had all been replaced with powered recliners – two to a row, with a hand-carved snack table between each pair. The reel-to-reel and original screen were gone as well, replaced by a state-of-the-art home theater system that included an upscale, high-definition projector, surround sound, and a one-hundred-twenty-inch projector screen. Last but not least, there was a red-and-white retro-style popcorn maker in a back corner, along with a mini fridge. About the only thing remaining of the original décor was the artwork on the walls.

  The change in the room’s look had come about at my grandfather’s direction while I had been off-planet. The embassy had been badly in need of an upgraded security system (among other things), but to make it work with current technology had required a massive overhaul in a number of areas: rewiring the electrical system, installation of Cat 6 cable, and more. (There was also some physical damage to the embassy that had been inadvertently caused by my father Alpha Prime, who had voluntarily paid for the repairs.)

  The end result of my grandfather’s efforts was a smashing success, in my opinion – especially in terms of upgrading the home theater. It had been one of the few rooms in the house where I hadn’t had to teleport a bunch of archaic furniture into storage. Looking around the room now as Myshtal and I entered, I couldn’t help but think – and not for the first time – that Gramps had probably updated everything in here as part of a plan to use the embassy as his secret man-cave.

  I let Myshtal pick the movie, and she chose a crime drama about a Robin Hood-esque gang trying to pull off a major heist. I felt it was a good choice, but Myshtal had probably picked it for reasons other than its entertainment value. While she understood that there was a lack of realism in films, she saw them as a way to learn more about Earth culture. There was a similar art form on Caeles, but it lacked the variation on themes that our movies embraced.

  For instance, in a Caelesian “film,” a thief would always be a bad guy. There would never be a situation whereby the audience’s sympathies would be aligned with the person trying to commit a crime. It simply wasn’t done. Likewise with other motifs; for example, a Caelesian movie about an arranged marriage would never lead viewers to wishing that, say, the prospective bride break off the engagement in order to marry her true love. (Not to say that those things never happened; they were just never represented in Caelesian films.) Bearing all that in mind, it’s not surprising that Myshtal found this particular form of entertainment fascinating.

  I started the movie, then spent a moment firing up the popcorn maker. A few minutes later, we were seated in the front row recliners with a bowl of popcorn between us, as well as a couple of sodas from t
he mini fridge.

  I had to admit that watching a movie with Myshtal was a treat. Almost as soon as the film started, she began making droll little comments about the on-screen action. For instance, one early scene showed a woman in a massive walk-in closet that was full of men’s attire.

  “That entire wardrobe is hideous,” Myshtal declared. “She should just burn it.”

  Almost immediately, the woman on the screen pulled out a lighter and then walked through the closet, setting various articles of clothing on fire. (It turned out the woman was burning her husband’s things after discovering he had a mistress.)

  In another scene, a street musician was playing a guitar and singing, trying to entice passersby to place money in a tin cup.

  “That instrument is completely out of tune,” Myshtal stated. “Someone should smash it.”

  Within thirty seconds, a hard-nosed character snatched the guitar from the musician and smashed it into the ground several times until it broke into pieces.

  After Myshtal made several more observations of this nature (and essentially predicted what the characters were going to do), I paused the movie.

  “Stop. Just stop,” I said, laughing. “You’ve obviously seen this film before.”

  “Moi?” she intoned mockingly, placing a hand innocently on her chest – a gesture that showed she was much more familiar with Earth culture than she occasionally let on.

  “Yes, you,” I stressed with a smile. “You’re predicting every scene like you wrote the script.”

  “It’s not my fault that Earth behavior is completely predictable.”

  “It isn’t, due to the fact that we’re a complex species.”

  “Of course you are,” she said condescendingly. “I’m sure amoebas consider themselves a complex species as well.”

  I stared at her for a moment, and then we both burst out laughing. I’d been so wrapped up in other things lately, that I’d actually forgotten that Myshtal had a great sense of humor.

  “Okay, you’re right,” she admitted after her laughter subsided. “I did see that film before. I’ve been watching a lot of them lately in my spare time in order to get more acclimated to Earth culture.”

  I thought for a moment. “Is that where you picked up a couple of the gestures you’ve used lately – like sticking out your tongue?”

  “Yes,” she said, grinning sheepishly.

  “Well, keep up the good work.”

  She smiled at my words of encouragement, and I sensed something like pride coming from her in relation to a job well done.

  With Myshtal promising not to foretell any more of the action, we went back to the movie. However, we’d only been watching a few minutes when the phone rang. There was a cordless extension in the theater room, and – knowing that Mom was working and that my grandparents were probably in bed – I teleported the phone into my hand.

  I switched the phone on and gave a perfunctory “Hello.”

  “Hey, handsome,” said a honeyed feminine voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hey,” I replied as I came to my feet, smiling at hearing my girlfriend’s voice. I gestured to Myshtal that I needed to take this call, then began walking towards the door after she nodded in acknowledgment.

  “What are you doing?” Electra asked.

  “Thinking about you, of course.” I stepped out of the theater room and closed the door behind me.

  “Good answer,” Electra said, giggling. As always, her laughter was intoxicating and infectious, making me chuckle along with her. “Seriously though, are you busy?”

  “No – just watching a movie.”

  “Feel like hanging out?”

  “Is that a trick question?” I asked, causing her to laugh again. I had rarely, if ever, turned down a chance to spend time with her. “Should I pop by your house?”

  “No, not tonight,” she said, causing me to frown in confusion. Why ask me to hang out if she really didn’t want to? Then she added, “Just buzz me in.”

  “Huh?” I muttered, more confused than before.

  “Buzz me in,” she repeated. “I’m at the gate.”

  Smiling now, I pressed the digits on the phone that would cause the large, wrought-iron gate at the embassy entrance to open.

  “Be there in a sec,” I said, barely waiting for Electra to acknowledge my statement before hanging up the phone and setting it on a nearby table. I then teleported outside, to the bottom of a wide stoop that consisted of about a dozen stone steps that led up the embassy’s front door.

  It was a rather dark night; what little illumination there was came mostly from a couple of ornate post lights – one at each end at the foot of the stoop. Looking down the driveway, I saw a pair of headlights headed in my direction. A few moments later, a car pulled to a stop in front of me, the engine turned off, and Electra got out.

  She was dressed in jeans, black boots, gloves, and a hooded parka that neatly framed her face. Seeing her bundled up made me mindful of the fact that it was chilly outside and a stiff breeze was blowing. As was typical, Electra wasn’t wearing makeup, but she had an inherent, natural beauty that didn’t need to be enhanced by cosmetics.

  We moved towards each other, both of us smiling, and then shared a short kiss as we met. Eyes twinkling, Electra moved closer and wrapped her arms around me as I embraced her as well.

  “Well, this is disappointing,” she droned a second later. Rubbing her hands quickly up and down the sides of my torso, she added, “Come on – do your thing.”

  I laughed, understanding what she meant. On cold days, when I haven’t dressed appropriately for the weather, I tend to compensate by raising my body temperature. On this particular occasion, I had come outside without grabbing so much as a light jacket. However, I hadn’t been outside long enough for the cold to start to affect me. Nevertheless, I did as requested and raised my core body temperature.

  “That’s my guy,” Electra intoned, snuggling in close and placing her head against my chest. She had explained before that being next to me when I was like this was akin to cuddling next to a warm, cozy fire with a blizzard raging outside. “You’re so nice and toasty that I could stay like this forever.”

  She then looked up and gave me a kiss – this time longer and more lingering than before. When we separated, breathless, a few moments later, she smiled and then pulled in close to me again.

  “You know,” I said, “you didn’t have to drive all the way over here. I would have been happy to come to you.”

  “I know,” she admitted, “but I wanted to. You shouldn’t have to come to me all the time.”

  I smiled but didn’t say anything, understanding what the meaning was behind her actions. In terms of spending time together, Electra had once equated dating me to having a rich boyfriend: sure, the guy could afford to pay every time they went out, but occasionally the girl wants to – if only to show the guy what he means to her. That’s why she had chosen to drive and see me on a cold, dark night rather than have me come to her (which, frankly speaking, would have been much easier). Basically, it was a way of telling me I was worth it, and I loved her for it.

  “So, how’d the mission go?” she asked, breaking my chain of thought. She also stepped back slightly as she posed the question, allowing us to see eye-to-eye.

  “Uh…” I muttered. “It’s a bit of a mixed report, to be honest.”

  I then telepathically shared with her the pertinent mission details. As expected, she groaned in disapproval at certain actions on my part. Upon finishing, I decided not to give her an opportunity to verbalize any criticisms.

  “So,” I blurted out, “how was your shopping jaunt?”

  “Nice try at changing the subject,” she said, making it understood that she knew what I was trying to do. “But it was fine. I think I found the perfect dress.”

  “Oh? What does it look like?”

  She laughed. “No, no, no, no. You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow. I want to see the look on your face when yo
u first catch a glimpse of me in it.”

  I frowned. “Well, how does telling what it looks like change that? I still won’t see you in it until tomorrow.”

  “Because I want your complete reaction. I won’t get that if you have an idea of what to expect.”

  I shook my head, nonplussed. “Smokey’s right. I really don’t understand women.”

  Electra laughed at that. “Good. That’s the way I like it.”

  I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “You want me confused about women?”

  She grinned. “No. I just don’t want you thinking you fully understand me, because the second that happens, you’ll–”

  Electra stopped abruptly as the sound of hinges creaking drew the attention of us both. Almost in unison, we separated and looked toward the top of the steps – to the front door of the embassy. With light from the interior behind her, we watched in silence as Myshtal stepped out.

  Almost immediately, there was tension in the air. More to the point, where there had been lighthearted mirth and amusement a moment before, I now felt a flurry of heated emotions coming from Electra that included resentment, spite, and annoyance (to name a few).

  Myshtal wrapped her arms around herself against the cold. At that moment I noticed she appeared to be wearing something short, sheer, and form-fitting. She obviously hadn’t dressed for the weather, which suggested she wouldn’t be out here long – something I considered a blessing.

  “Hello, Electra,” Myshtal said, giving my girlfriend a congenial wave. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Yeah – you, too,” Electra said flatly, although her tone suggested that it was anything but nice.